No one considered it to be a thing. It was unheard of outside of old fables; a dragon with a power not of their element? A story for hatchlings. An elder's tale. The fictitious dragons would harness their odd power and use it for good or evil, depending on the story. The ability did nothing to them besides grant them power.
These, of course, were tales.
On a stormy day, when the branches of the trees creaked and the lightning snapped its jaws and roared, echoing among the swamp, a water egg hatched.

Her eyes had the stereotypical deep sea blue of her birthplace, and her coloring was red and gold. This wasn't anything to raise an eyebrow at, though, since elements only affected a dragon's eyes.
The thing that was curious, however, was how quickly she hatched. She writhed out and began shooting upwards towards the sky. As she broke the water, she let out a shriek and climbed onto the bank. Her coat was smoking, curling off of her and allowing itself into the air. The young hatchling whimpered and curled up, wishing the pain away. Tears pricked her eyes and spilled a bit; when it did, it only hurt more as the liquid splashed onto her cheeks.
The hatchling plunged through the thick underbrush, and wandered for days. Scared and alone, she was forced to train herself to hunt. She had to keep her claws sharp, and her wits sharper. Days turned into months. She met with travelers sometimes, passing by in this cursed, lonesome marsh. That's really when she began learning how to speak; watching dragons pass by. Eventually she would join them, stumbling with words but longing for conversation.

-not done-


she is beauty, she is grace
say goodbye to your face